That Meddling Divine Dragon
by Blonde Panther
Summary: FE1, mild AU. When Marth collapses out of nowhere, the Divine Dragon Naga decides to interfere in human affairs for the sake of the future. However, saving the Prince of Light may be more challenging than it seems. Title, rating and genres are subject to change.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Fire Emblem or any of its characters.  
**Characters: **Marth, Naga, Merric, Shiida, Tiki.  
**Pairings:** Marth/Shiida, one-sided childhood crush Tiki/Marth.  
**Warnings: **I cross-reference _Shadow Dragon_ and the non-canon-breaking parts of the manga. If you're opposed to this, don't read.  
_**Author's notes: **__Protip for IS: Next time, make sure you use the same names for everything in all English versions of your games. Having to look up the name of every character that appears in this fic is not fun at all. At any rate, the concept this fic rests on is something that I've been milling in my head for a long time now, but it's only recently that I thought up a plot to go with it. Because of how long these chapters will be and because of my muse's flightiness, this fic will update not once every week, but once every two weeks. Thanks for understanding._ _It's very possible that the Characters and Pairings headers above will be updated as the fic goes along._

* * *

When Marth woke up that morning, he had no idea that the day would have anything else in store for him than it normally did. In fact, the Star and Savior of Altea was quite happy to wake up- his dreams had been plagued by figures whose faces he could not recall as he woke, although he feared it had something to do with his father's disappointment in him or his mother's demise at the hand of the dragon he had slain at castle Altea. Regardless of which it was, it made his sleep restless and robbed him of the revitalisation that was the night's rest for the rest of his army.

For this reason, he'd woken up early that morning after a particularly bad night- bathing in sweat, as had become the custom by now, and for almost half an hour he had been unable to do anything but sit upright, supporting himself with one hand as he clutched his forehead with the other. He didn't open his eyes until he heard footsteps approaching his tent, and the flap was pushed aside by Jagen. "Your Highness," he said, sounding surprised to find him already awake. "Are you feeling well?"

"I'll be fine," Marth said, raising his head and smiling at the old knight. "Give me ten minutes." The expression on Jagen's face told Marth that he knew this was at least twice the time the prince needed to get ready in the mornings, and that he realized this meant something was definitely not right. However, Marth deflected the unspoken concern by gesturing his head towards the figure he shared his tent with.

Merric had the uncanny ability to not simply tangle, but entirely trap himself from head to toe in his bedroll as he slept. This morning was no exception, as hardly anything of the mage was recognisable in the heap that lay not far from Marth himself. Upon seeing it, Jagen nodded in understanding and left the tent. Marth hesitated for a few seconds, but then sighed, got to his feet and stretched. Feeling his spine settle into a comfortable position along with his shoulder blades, he reached for the washcloth and the fresh water that Jagen had brought.

Going through the motions of the morning ritual -a quick washing-up, getting dressed, running a brush through his hair- usually caused memories and concerns of his dreams to fade along with the grogginess of sleep. So, too, did it this morning, and as he put his tiara in his pants pocket and swung his cape over his shoulders to fasten it, he walked over to Merric's bedroll, prodding it with his foot in the general vicinity of where he thought his friend's head might have been when he had gone to sleep last night. "Wake up, Merric," he said. "We're breaking up camp soon. We can't do that if you're still sleeping."

A bulge formed in the cloth- Marth assumed it was Merric trying to extend an arm to wave him off, as simultaneously he heard muffled mumbling from near his foot. Success, he'd prodded the right spot. He tilted his head to a side in amusement as any motion in the bedroll halted, with Merric seemingly realising what kind of impossible position he had forced himself into this time. "L-Lord Marth," he managed to decipher from underneath the cloth, "Help…"

The prince sighed and shook his head, still amused, and placed his tiara in his hair even as he kneeled, his hands clasped as his lower arms rested on his knees. He took his time looking over the mess of tangles and twists. "Lord… Marth?"

"Okay," he said, "let's see here…"

* * *

By some sort of miracle, Marth had succeeded in untangling Merric and left their tent before the ten minutes he had requested of Jagen had passed. Once outside, he realised that most of the camp was actually still in their own tents, with the exception of a few of the mounted knights. Figuring breakfast would take a little while yet to be served, he decided to go see if a particular person had already woken.

Only half to his surprise, he heard Shiida before he saw her- she scolded her Pegasus for something. By the time Marth had sight on the corral where the Pegasus and most of the horses had spent the night, it had gone back to behaving, and helped itself to whatever it was Shiida had in the bucket in front of it as its mistress brushed it. Knowing that Pegasi weren't overly fond of men in general, and not yet having forgotten the normally gentle beast damn near biting his arm off when he had tried to pet it shortly after his arrival in Talys, Marth kept his distance. Leaning on the fence of the corral a few feet away from the duo, he cleared his throat.

Shiida jolted, apparently not having heard him coming, and the next thing Marth knew, he was ducking as fast as he could to avoid the brush his girlfriend threw at his head. Her aim was usually eerily good, but for whatever reason he managed to avoid the thing altogether while maintaining his dignity as he straightened himself out. "Good morning to you as well, Shii- Ack!" he hadn't counted on her having a _second_ brush within arm's reach, and failure to anticipate meant he failed to dodge this time. He stuck out his hand just in time to catch the brush as it fell down after the collision with his forehead. "What do you need two brushes for anyway?"

"The second is for throwing at my boyfriend when he dodges the first," Shiida said with her hands on her hips, but she was smiling. Patting the neck of her Pegasus, she turned around and walked over to Marth, taking the brush from him and kissing his forehead where she hit him. "Serves you right for sneaking up on me like that."

"No, it doesn't," Marth protested, although he had difficulties keeping himself from laughing, "Especially when you take into consideration that I wasn't sneaking up on you. I'm going to need more than a kiss to the forehead to forgive you this indiscretion."

"I'll have to go unforgiven for a little while, then," Shiida said as she climbed over the fence. "It's too early in the morning. And besides, we still have the battle ahead of us, not behind us." She patted his face before seemingly walking off. Marth turned on his heels and wanted to shout out after her when he realized she'd gone to pick up the first brush, and returned to put them both away. Once done with that, Shiida hooked her arm into his, leading him towards the mess tent for what had to be breakfast.

Merric was already there, showing no signs of his predicament earlier this morning, and scooted over to make room for the royals. Marth looked over to the other side of the table, smiling at the little girl with the large, floppy ears and the green hair that sat there. Princess Tiki responded by beaming and digging in even more enthusiastically than she had before. "So," Marth said, turning to Jagen, "Have Medon's fliers found us yet?"

"It's hard to tell," Jagen responded, "And if they have, then Prince Michalis is not showing it."

"Hm." Marth neglected the food, in favor of thinking through their options. "We have to keep moving. I'm not willing to risk being caught outside of a forest that can cover us from Wyverns." There was a forest not far from where they were at present, and if they could reach it, the prince would feel that much safer.

"Marth," Shiida said as she shoved a fried egg from her plate onto his, "Eat. If we get ambushed, you'll fall over at the first swing of your sword." Marth laughed -he doubted it would be that bad- but submitted to her will. Shiida was no healer like Lena or Princess Maria, but she generally knew what was best to keep his body running.

As he reached for a fork, though, a sharp pain took hold of his chest and he aborted all movement in favor of grabbing his heart with both hands, doubling over. The entire table immediately forgot their food and redirected their attention to their leader instead, although he barely noticed. He put one hand on the table to support himself, not really feeling the hands Shiida and Merric had grabbed him with to prevent him from falling backwards.

His vision quickly became riddled with white spots, and just before his entire sight went blank, he saw Princess Tiki leaping up from her seat, Bantu failing to keep her down.

"MAR-MAR!" she screamed, but that was the last thing he heard before the sensation of his heart suddenly being tugged on turned off his consciousness.

* * *

_**Additional Author's Notes:** I still have every intention of finishing Beyond the Gate, but I think I might have to rekindle my FE6 mindset by playing through the game again. I want to get this out of my system, first. Bear with me._


	2. Chapter 1

Truth be told, Marth collapsing was nothing new. For as long as Shiida could remember having known him, he'd always sported a frail, almost feminine build; it was the reason she worried about him and ensured that he ate and slept well. She'd known him to have collapsed at least once in Talys, after overtaxing his then untrained body in sparring with Ogma, and she herself had seen him succumb to injuries he had taken fighting the Manakete in Castle Altea. Still, those times at least they'd had a warm, soft bed ready for him, whether it was in the royal villa in Talys or his own bed in Altea. This time, Jagen couldn't carry him to a bed or even a cot, only to a bedroll. It was a silly thing to worry about, but it was on Shiida's mind as she restrained the panicking and screaming Princess Tiki, whose frighteningly sharp nails were extended in a desperate attempt to grab 'Mar-Mar,' as if the little Divine Dragon thought she could bring him back to consciousness by simply grabbing his arm.

And as normal, Shiida supposed, it was for Marth to fall over after a poor night's sleep and a few days of poor eating, he had never done so without a clear reason. More than anything, this worried the princess of Talys, and she could tell from the faces of Marth's own knights that she was not alone in suspecting foul play. Heavens knew what dark arts or dangerous mages Medeus had at his disposal…

When the Fire Dragon Bantu gently took Tiki from Shiida, she could finally pursue the paladin. She wanted to barge into the tent she had seen Jagen disappear into, but before she could reach it, Merric came out and pushed against her shoulders, keeping her away from the tent entrance. "Let me go!" she cried, "I want to see him-"

"There's nothing you can do for him, Princess," the mage said, shaking his head wearily and pushing her further back despite her protesting. "I don't think there's much any of us can do right now. I'm about to fetch Master Wendell, he may be able to find out more than we can…" He looked up, his attention redirected to a point behind Shiida's back. She knew she should have taken the opportunity to shove him aside and run into the tent, but against her better judgement, she turned around. As she saw Bishop Wendell, the aging, relatively large-bodied sage who had taught Merric everything he knew about magic, she wanted to scream that he had to hurry up. She knew he was old and heavy, but was that really a reason to walk to Marth's tent as if he were taking a stroll in the park?! Marth could be dying, and Wendell quite simply didn't _care!_

"Princess," she heard Merric say through her pondering if maybe Wendell would walk faster if she shoved her lance up his- "Why don't you go feed your Pegasus?" She turned back to him and gave him a glare, which made him swallow painfully. As a mage, he knew well to fear the wrath of a Pegasus rider. "We'll take good care of Lord Marth, I promise. You know I wouldn't let anything happen to him…" He studied her face before wringing his hands nervously. "…right?"

"If you're trying to reassure me, you're failing spectacularly," Shiida said, but she sighed and turned around as Wendell passed by her and entered the tent, beckoning Merric to follow. The mage's words did little to make her feel at ease- after all, everyone in the mess tent had _clearly _just allowed something to happen to Marth. That included herself, though, and getting angry and violent with Merric for it was no use. He was right, the best thing she could do right now was anything that kept her from panicking. Her Pegasus had eaten -she usually combined fodder and brushing in the mornings to save time- but she had to clean up after him.

As she reached the corral, she saw to her dismay that someone else had already cleaned up after her. The bucket with fodder, the crate with the brushes and the harness that had been on her Pegasus' head, were all nowhere to be seen. As Shiida looked further into the middle of the pen, hoping to catch sight of her Pegasus, she instead saw a large, green-scaled reptile with leathery, bat-like wings lying square in the centre, with the Whitewings' Pegasi grazing and dozing around it. Her own still kept his distance, as he trotted towards the fence and his mistress in hopes of nabbing treats from her. "Hey," she said, putting her hand over his nose and using the fence as a stepping stone to push herself onto his back. He snorted, but then slowly strolled down the pen to continue grazing. Shiida sighed deeply, putting her arms around his neck and shutting her eyes.

—

"Someone, explain to me why the camp is not yet broken up." Merric turned to the entrance of the tent at the female's voice. Walking in unannounced and setting aside her axe was Minerva, the red-haired and red-armoured rogue princess of Medon. In all the chaos of Marth's passing out, Merric had forgotten that Princess Minerva had been circling above the camp, her wyvern capable of smelling the rest of Medon's long before they would arrive. If she was annoyed or frustrated by something, she did an outstanding job hiding it, crossing her arms as she saw Marth passed out on the ground, with Master Wendell standing over him, looking like he was lost in thought. "On second thought," she corrected herself, "Explain to me why our leader is not conscious."

"We don't know yet," Merric said. "He just fell over during breakfast." It was good that the dragon-riding redhead was here, though, Merric realized as he followed up his explanation. "Do you know if your brother has any mages at his court that could cast some sort of curse over this distance?"

"If he does," Princess Minerva said, looking at Marth, "Then he's hired them after I left. We did fail to kill Gharnef in Khadein, but I can't say whether Michalis would allow him at the castle or not." She raised a very good point. Gharnef had attacked them at the gates of the City of Magic, taunting Marth with a spell the sight of which had sent him into a blind panic. It wasn't until later that Merric had learnt from Jagen that the spell in question, Imhullu, had been used years earlier to murder King Cornelius, Marth's father, in front of the prince's eyes. In his traumatised state, Marth had been unable to do anything but attempt to outrun the Dark Priest, but Merric had attempted to actively hold him off with Excalibur- to no avail. If Gharnef hadn't decided the panicked prince had been a waste of time rather than a threat, and somehow warped out of the city, they could very well all have been dead.

Merric shook his head to avoid getting caught up in the memories of how long it had taken to get Marth to calm down after Gharnef had left, and concentrated back on the present. "If Gharnef is at the Medonian court," he mused out loud, "Then it's not so bad an assumption that he's cursed Lord Marth."

"That's a big 'if'," Princess Minerva interjected. "Let's hold off on the theorising until your master can tell us something." Merric nodded, only to jolt when Jagen cleared his throat.

The paladin had been quiet ever since putting Marth down, and the mage had almost completely forgotten that he was even present. "Princess Minerva," he began once he knew he had the redhead's attention. "I trust you've seen nothing during your watch?"

"Nothing at all," the princess replied. "My wyvern doesn't seem to have smelled or heard anything, either, so I think we can safely assume Michalis' troops are still far away."

"You think?" Jagen repeated, displeased by Princess Minerva's use of the word.

"It's hard for a wyvern to sneak," she explained, "and especially to escape being spotted by one of its own kin. But if this," she motioned towards Marth, "is caused by something or someone at the castle, then there's no telling if some sort of magic isn't masking them from us."

"In which case the watch is utterly useless," Merric knew. Almost everyone in the camp was perpetually armed; he felt his tome burning inside the folds of his mantle as he thought of it, and he looked over the axe that Princess Minerva had set aside earlier, as well as the sword around Jagen's waist. If an attack came, everyone would be able to defend him- or herself. "Should we alert the others?"

"The camp is in disarray as things are," Jagen said. "Let's not create more potentially unnecessary panic until we know for certain what's happened and where the Dark Priest is. Professor Wendell, are you making any progress?"

"It's difficult," Master Wendell said, the first time he had spoken since Merric had explained what had happened and why they needed him. "I can't find any traces of conventional magic, and I'm afraid my knowledge of curses is limited. I'm looking for the signatures of the more mainstream ones, but the prince himself isn't exactly helping either."

"How do you mean?" Princess Minerva asked. Master Wendell stood straight, interrupting his examination of Marth to explain himself.

"Living creatures resist being examined by magical means," he said, "albeit subconsciously. Normally I'd get some sort of feedback from the prince, but right now there's nothing. It's as though he's an empty shell."

"That's because he is," an unknown, feminine-sounding voice resonated from the centre of the tent. Jagen reached for his sword, Minerva for her axe, and Wendell stepped back as Merric stretched one arm protectively in front of his master, ready to lash at whoever had intruded into the tent by whatever magical means they had deployed. However, there was nothing to be seen. "My gratitude for finally lifting that barrier, by the way," the voice returned, causing Merric to look around the tent frantically. "You weren't making it any easier to get in."

Movement caught the wind mage's eye and his attention shot in the direction where he had seen it. Much to his, and everyone's surprise, the movement had come from Marth, who seemed to have gathered all his strength and awkwardly pushed himself into a sitting position. Merric wasn't sure what to think of this- on one hand, there was the relief that his friend was seemingly alright, a little weakened but that was nothing rest and food wouldn't help him recover from. But on the other hand, the voice they had heard had come from Marth's direction as well, and it had most decidedly not been Marth's.

Jagen, too, looked uncertain as to how to respond to this turn of events, his hand still resting around the hilt of his sword and his fingers twitching, as if wanting to draw the blade, but he had not removed it from the sheath and his eyes were fixed on his liege. Princess Minerva was the only one present who decided to show open hostility by having taken her axe in two hands and assuming a stance that left nothing to doubt: she was ready and willing to strike if the owner of the voice became a threat.

Marth took his time getting up. He finally sat up straight, slowly and with some difficulty folding his legs beneath him, and used one hand for support as he brought his other one up, staring at it as he flexed the fingers. Every motion seemed to require effort and a lot of focus, as he didn't speak a single word as he did this. Finally, he set his free hand on the ground behind him as well, carefully leaning back as a means of seemingly stretching his back. Finally, a rather undignified grunt escaped his mouth. "I completely forgot how heavy bodies are," he muttered, in that same, strange voice that had sounded in the tent before. Now convinced that something wasn't right with the prince, Merric heard Jagen's sword scraping against its sheath as the paladin drew it, and he himself pulled Excalibur from his robes. Chances were he wouldn't be able to cast it inside of the tent -at least not without doing more damage to his allies than to whatever was with them- but it could potentially serve as intimidation.

"Let's have a go at this, then…" the prince muttered as he tried to pull his legs out underneath him and attempted to get to his feet, only to stop midway through the motion and slowly shake his head. "…on second thought… nevermind that." He sat back down, although he didn't fold his legs under himself again.

Jagen finally seemed to decide whatever entity was playing with Marth's body had had enough time to mess around. "You may explain yourself," he said, his voice rife with both indignation at the apparent violation of his liege and the authority that he normally radiated. "It's fairly plain to see that you are not Prince Marth; who are you?" No immediate response came, so he raised his sword and pointed it at the prince. "I'd like an answer."

"I'd like a manual with this body," Marth said, looking up at the paladin. "But I think you'll get more results by being patient than I will. Just give me a few minutes to figure this thing out- oop?" As he had turned away from Jagen's sword, Marth had found Princess Minerva's axe at his face. "Are humans all this aggressive nowadays?" he asked as he scooted backwards a few inches to get clear of the axe's blade. "I recall a time when my name filled your hearts with fear or reverence, if not both."

"Maybe it still would," Princess Minerva said, "If you would have the courtesy to inform us of your name and your business in this camp."

"My business," Marth said, putting an uneasy emphasis on the second word to illustrate his annoyance at the princess' cheek, "is to save the champion of your race, and your continent along with him." Sitting up on one knee, he made a gesture with his hand that Merric didn't recognise- he opened his tome in case it was an arcane gesture, but he soon saw it was more likely to be a gesture of satisfaction with the balance he had found as the prince's invader didn't follow it up. "As for my name… I've been called many things. Judging from the sounds these vocal chords are capable of producing, you may call me Naga."


	3. Chapter 2

A good few seconds of silence filled the tent. Merric wasn't sure how long everyone just stood there, staring at Marth as he attempted a second time to stand straight. This time, he succeeded, looking at the dumbfounded knights near the entrance of the tent.

Master Wendell was the only person in their company who appeared to have remained capable of coherent thought. "Naga?" he repeated, "As in, the divine warrior that sealed the Earth Dragons an eternity ago?"

"The very one," Naga said, having found his balance. "I am also the creator of Falchion and the Fire Emblem, but that's another tale for another day…" Merric found himself stupefied, but also unwilling to believe the intruder. He was a believer, but still… Naga was a god. And gods didn't interfere in the affairs of humans. Why would the real Naga possess Marth now? None of it added up.

"Why?" Jagen asked, before summarizing Merric's concerns in two questions. "Why are you here, and why specifically in Lord Marth's body?"

"To answer your second question first," Naga said, raising one hand as he explained himself, "There's two reasons for that. For starters, I don't have a body of my own. Divine Dragons grow old, but my body disintegrated a few thousand years ago when Tiki was born. I need a body if I'm going to be of any sort of help, and the Lodestar doesn't need his at the moment anyway. Which brings me to the second reason: Do any of you know what happens to a body whose soul has been ripped out?" No response came, so Naga shook his head. "It dies. No matter who helps us, we wouldn't have the capacities to reunite soul and body before either of them dies. However, if a different entity -like myself, for example- keeps the body running, that buys time."

He didn't seem about to answer Jagen's first question, so Merric repeated it. "But why do you care in the first place? I was taught gods never interfere in the affairs of humans."

Naga turned to him, studying his face for a good long time before letting out a laugh. It sounded similar to a bark, if Merric had to be honest, and felt very unnatural coming out of Marth's mouth. "Gods? I am no god, boy. That right there is humankind's own inferiority complex speaking. I'm a Manakete- admittedly one with a few more abilities and a little more power than most of her kind, but still, just a Manakete."

"_Her_ kind?" the voice came from Princess Minerva. "The warrior Naga is a man, is he not? That is why only male heirs of Anri are capable of wielding Falchion."

"My _word,_" Naga said, shaking his head. "Are you serious? You humans can't go about changing people's _genders_ as you see fit!"

"Then you are…"

"I didn't synthesise Tiki out of clay and water, if that's what you're asking." With Merric too stunned to say much of anything, Naga shook his- HER head again. "Listen. It seems we have a lot of unclarities here, but there's not much time to clear them up. My name is Naga, and I am one of the oldest Divine Dragons. I understand you have met my daughter, Tiki. Maybe your kind has elevated me to godhood because I have some powers that few if any others have- such as my existence without a body, and my ability to see past, present, and perhaps most ostensibly, future. Ages ago, I saw the extinction of mankind if no one stopped the Earth Dragons- and now, I have seen it once more." She paused, letting the severity of her words sink in. "Back then, I was still tangible. Capable of wielding my fangs without the help of a human. But even I am not immune to the test of time. My body is gone, my shield scattered, and my sword in the possession of a human house. I fear that I may have held off on stepping in until it was too late, but I simply could not act sooner."

"What's going on?" Merric asked. "What do you mean, the extinction of mankind? What's too late?"

"The Dark Priest Gharnef. I'm pretty sure you've met him or at least know who he is." The gaze in Marth's eyes had become steel-like, cold and determined. Merric noted that they had turned green, as opposed to the blue they had always been. Was Naga's presence playing tricks on him? "He has made the Lodestar his personal target, and not only separated his soul from his body but also bound it to the Darksphere, so that it is at his mercy. As we speak, he is likely finding a way to destroy it altogether."

"As awful as that is," Jagen said, "Prince Marth's demise would not spell doom for our entire race-"

He was interrupted by Naga softly chuckling. "I am sometimes so highly amused by your human silliness. Yes, sir knight, in fact, the demise of the Lodestar will be the demise of the entire human race. Without him, your odds of winning this war are slim, even if I or his sister were to wield Falchion." She shut her eyes. "But even if you do win _this_ war, another would break out in another few centuries. And after that, a third one, several thousand years from now. Without the bloodline sired by the Lodestar, if mankind survives to see the beginning of those wars, it will not see the end."

Marth was that important to the conservation of their race… it was the umpteenth thing today, the umpteenth thing that Naga had said, that made Merric fall silent. Naga was well-known for her sympathy towards humans. That was why she had come to their aid all those ages ago, and why she cared enough about them to do so now, as well. He didn't understand why she cared so much, but she supposed he would leave her to her secrets- women's minds were the one thing magic could not unravel.

"Listen," Naga said, snapping Merric and apparently everyone else out of their thoughts. Judging from the wide gesture she made, she'd gotten the hang of that thing they called balance. "It's not too late quite yet. We're immensely strapped for time, but there _is_ still time. I need Falchion, and I need a small number of allies."

"And then what?" Sir Jagen asked. Merric wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer. There was really only one way Naga could take this.

"And then I will take the blade to the Dark Priest myself," Naga said. "But I assume that the Lodestar is no wielder of magic, so I will have to be accompanied by at least one mage."

"I'll do it." For a few seconds Merric contemplated where that voice had come from. It wasn't until a few seconds had passed, that he realized it had come out of his own mouth. Before Master Wendell could ask him if he was certain of this, he hurried to explain himself. "I know I'm not the best we have, but Lord Marth is my friend- I can't sit here and wait. I'd be a liability because I'm just going to worry about him anyway."

"Good!" Naga said, smiling. "Looks like I have my mage. Now we just need to fetch Tiki, and then-"

"I'm going, too."

It was a female's voice, but not Princess Minerva's. When Merric looked to the entrance of the tent, he saw that Princess Shiida had struck the tent flap aside and had stepped inside. She still looked upset, but a lot more reasonable than she had been before- her hysteria had made way to a more controlled, if somewhat depressing, demeanour. How much had she overheard, the mage wondered? "If you're to travel with a small group," the princess said, "then you'll need someone who can scout out the area. My Pegasus and I lend ourselves perfectly to this task."

"Your Highness," Jagen interrupted, "May I ask how much you understand of the situation before you leap to decisions?"

"I have heard Lady Naga explaining everything," she replied. "Rest assured, Jagen, I wouldn't do this if I didn't think I could focus on my lancework and my Pegasus while I do it."

"Perhaps Princess Minerva or one of the Whitewings would be more suited to…"

"No, let her." Naga interrupted Jagen. "She's right, it can't hurt to have a Pegasus Knight along. I'll take her." Merric found himself suspicious of her lack of elaboration on the subject, considering how verbose she had been on everything else thus far. However, he was still trying to decide whether it was something between women or if there was a more sinister reason for it, when she piped up again. "That's all I'm going to take for now, though. I understand Tiki is in this camp. I wish to see her."

"I can fetch her," Princess Shiida said, but Naga shook her head.

"No need," she said, "I've figured out this balance thing. Just tell me where she is and I'll find her myself." When everyone exchanged uncomfortable looks, she put her hands on her hips. "…what?"

"I mean no offense, milady…" Princess Minerva said, "But allegedly, the entire camp witnessed Prince Marth passing out. We may cause a second panic if he is suddenly up, running, and acting… a whole lot differently from what the men are used to from him. Honestly, it will be much better if someone were to send for Tiki."

Naga sighed audibly, clearly displeased with the princess' words. "Fine," she said, "but please hurry."

—

As Princess Minerva took off to fetch the little Manakete, Shiida took the time to look at Naga. The voice that came out of his mouth was different, as was the colour of his eyes and obviously his body language and behaviour, but to look at Marth, there was nothing to indicate that his body was being used by anyone other than its rightful possessor. Truthfully, she was still processing everything she had heard. Gharnef's dreadful spell and even more dreadful plan… Naga's decision to step in… and Marth's importance to the survival of their race, which brought an immensely deep shade of red to her cheeks.

She chided herself: this was no time to be thinking about children! Least of all because she didn't even know for certain if Marth's offspring would be hers as well. They might have been a couple now, during this campaign, but nothing was official and there was no telling what her father would do once she returned to Talys. To her, it seemed like wedding her to Marth would be the obvious choice, but the fact was that there were larger, more influential countries than Altea… especially considering Altea was in ruins. She shook her head, shaking the thoughts. Before she could worry about her future with Marth, she had to focus on ensuring that Marth himself would have a future to begin with. The motion caught the attention of the Divine Dragon, but fortunately for Shiida, before Naga could ask questions Princess Minerva came in, followed by Tiki and, a few paces behind, Bantu. It was likely that the Fire Dragon hadn't wanted to leave Tiki's side.

To nobody's surprise, Tiki's face cleared up and she ran over to Naga, tackling Marth's body as she thought he was back. Shiida gave a weak smile at the sight of Naga staggering backwards as a result of the impact, in an attempt to hold her balance. If only it had been so easy. "Mar-Mar!" Tiki exclaimed in her usual excited manner, "You're ba-" she interrupted herself though, and looked up at Marth's face, although not detaching herself from his waist. "You're not Mar-Mar."

"And you're not asleep like you're supposed to be," Naga said, patting the girl on the head. A shiver went down Tiki's back, and she detached herself from Naga's waist to step back. If anything, she seemed afraid. "Don't worry, now," Naga said, seemingly not perturbed. Shiida's eyes narrowed, unsure whether to be relieved, insulted, or anything else when she realized that the face Naga made right now was the exact same one Marth made when trying to reassure her. Or, well, anyone else she supposed, but mostly her. "I'm not going to put you to sleep again. I want to ask you something, Tiki."

"Dear gods," Bantu whispered, "Is that Lady Naga?"

She turned to him, smiling. "Yes, Bantu. I found it wise to step in. I see you've been taking care of my daughter."

"I have, milady." Bantu was not confused in the slightest, speaking to Naga as though it was the most normal thing in the world. "I never meant to go against your word, but she wished so desperately to see the human world."

"I don't want to sleep anymore," Tiki said, her little hands balled into fists. "I want to stay with Mar-Mar and everyone. Mommy, can you find Mar-Mar?"

Shiida was fully prepared for someone having to explain that Tiki's 'Mar-Mar' and Naga's 'the Lodestar' were the same person, but by some sort of miracle the elder dragon seemed to have that figured out by herself. "I can't, Tiki. He's somewhere vaguely in that direction," she gestured to a side, "But I lost the trail when I entered his body." When Tiki pouted, Naga patted her shoulders. "But I think you can. You're some… two thousand years old right now, aren't you?" Tiki nodded at the staggering number. It was common knowledge that Manaketes grew old, but two thousand and counting? And she looked and acted like a six-year-old… "That means you should be able to find him. Do you feel anything weird? Maybe his scent is coming from somewhere, or…"

"That way," Tiki said, extending her arm to the same side Naga had gestured to earlier. She never took her eyes off of Marth's face, apparently still trying to process the situation. "But it's very faint. Does that mean he's far away?"

Naga nodded, and kneeled so she was at the same height as the younger dragon. "Yes, Tiki, it does. And we're going to find him and bring him back, but we need your help so we know where we're going. Can you do that?" Tiki nodded feverishly, seemingly enthusiastic. Of course, the little dragon was happy to go to 'Mar-Mar's' rescue. Honestly, if Shiida hadn't known Marth to consider Tiki more of a younger sister than anything else, she might have felt threatened by her unreal dedication to him. Naga looked up at Bantu. "Bantu, I want you to stay here so the rest of this army isn't deprived of draconic power. Do you think you can hold the line on your own?"

"You wound me, milady." Bantu bowed. "Those mere Wyverns will not put a scratch on these old bones."

"It's not your bones I'm worried about," Naga said as she stood up, "It's your scales. At any rate…" looking at Shiida and Merric, she continued. "I'd like to leave within the mark. Can that be done?"

"I'll need a little bit of time to get my Pegasus and my equipment in order," Shiida said, "But a mark's time is more than sufficient."

"The same goes for me," Merric chimed in. "I'll make sure to have my tomes and supplies ready by then."

"I will inform the men," Jagen said. "With luck, we will be able to leave at about the same time you will."

"Very well," Naga said, "in that case, everyone but Tiki is dismissed." Shiida wasn't sure why, but she nodded her head, turned around and left the tent, heading for the armoury tent to get her hands on decent weaponry.

On crucial missions, she couldn't afford to skimp on the equipment. And as far as crucial missions went, this would be the biggest and most momentous of her career.


	4. Chapter 3

_**Author's Notes:**__ Entirely unrelated to this fic, but still something I wanted to say. Ever since July 1__st__, I've been the head moderator of a fresh, Fire Emblem: Awakening-based roleplaying board that goes simply by Ylisse. I won't elaborate here, but if you're interested, you can find us on Hyrule Castle, where we are a sub-board in the Separate Role Play Areas. If the front page is too confusing, I can also provide a direct link to our own index. We're not very big at the moment, but I have great hopes for it, so definitely check us out if you enjoyed Awakening!_

_Now, onward!_

* * *

By the time Shiida arrived at the armoury tent, Merric was already there, sorting through tomes. She had learnt the hard way to fear his Wind Magic, but she also knew that he was terrible with any other type of tomes… was he really the best choice for this expedition? Naga seemed to trust him, but she didn't know that Linda and Wendell were both much more powerful magic users. Still, if there was one thing to be said for Merric other than the fact that with a wind spell, he was _deadly,_ it would be that he was as devoted to Marth as she was. She shook her concerns, reaching for a silver lance and testing it. One lance wasn't the other, and she wanted to be sure that the one she brought with her would last her. Satisfied with the weight and overall condition of the polearm, she grabbed a brand new throwing lance as well, after which her hand hovered above the lone Wing Spear that stood at the far end of the lance rack.

They had to travel lightly… was it wise to bring both a silver lance and a Wing Spear? She could use the punch if they had to fight heavy infantry or any cavalry at all, considering how few of them there were, but two polearms were hard enough to carry, let alone three. "Merric?" she said, "Do we have a spare rapier there?"

For a few seconds, she heard the clanging of metal on metal that indicated Merric was looking through the swords. "Yes," he said, "I have one here in mint condition. Do you need it?"

She turned around and walked over to him, taking the blade and its sheath out of his hand. "It's easier to carry," she explained, "we don't get a supply convoy, so I have to carry my weapons myself or let Apollo do it." As she said it, she looked at the stack of tomes next to the mage and hoped he had realised this. Judging from how quickly he looked over it, himself, he hadn't. "Bring Wind tomes," she advised him. "You're terrible with anything else."

"Yeah…" Merric muttered, starting to sift through the pile to take out the wind spells that he could find. Shiida left the tent, walking over to where Apollo was waiting for her.

Much to her surprise, she found the Pegasus already saddled, with Princess Minerva struggling to get his bridle on as well. "Your highness?" Shiida asked, "Shouldn't you be saddling your dragon instead?"

"I never took her tack off," the Wyvern Rider explained. "And I thought I'd save you time." In frustration, she reached for the beast's head again. "Although I shamefully confess that I appear to be incapable of taming him."

"You're trying to be too gentle with him." Shiida stepped forward, taking the bridle from Princess Minerva in one hand and putting the other on Apollo's nose, forcefully pulling his head down. "He'll behave if you're strict, and contrary to popular belief Pegasi are sturdy. He won't fall apart." Once she'd put the bridle on the beast, she set to attaching the lances to his saddle.

She had assumed that Princess Minerva would leave, perhaps to get her own weapons in order, so she jolted slightly when the redhead spoke up behind her. "Be careful on your way, princess." When Shiida turned around, she saw the princess standing with her arms crossed and a pensive expression on her face. "I don't know if I trust Naga. And even if she's reliable, then there's still Michalis and Gharnef himself to worry about. If he's skilled enough to trap Prince Marth, then it's likely he's already sensed Naga's presence."

That was something Shiida hadn't thought about, but the words rang true in her ears. If Naga really was such a powerful presence, as everything that had been said in the tent had implied, then someone of Gharnef's power would have taken note of her arrival on the mortal plane… or whatever you wanted to call it. Princess Minerva shook her head, starting to turn around. "I know you care about him," she said. "We all do. But don't let it change your priorities. Always stay on task." She… really didn't have to say these things. "I wish you luck." With those words, Princess Minerva took off, presumably to get her dragon ready for her own departure.

Shiida ran a double-check of her tack and equipment, fastening the rapier around her waist. "That seems to be alright," she muttered. "Let's go, Apollo." The Pegasus spread his wings wide, anticipating a flight for the first time in a couple of days. His mistress laughed, waiting until he folded them back in before she swung herself into the saddle. She'd scarcely had the time to sit down comfortably when the beast kicked his hind legs against the ground hard, making a difficult and sudden take-off from standstill that resulted in them soaring up like a bolt out of a crossbow.

The wind in her face and hair, together with the weight of her armour and weaponry, had become a familiar sensation for Shiida. But this time, there was more to the feeling. She knew what it was; the realisation of how much depended on her and her little group of companions. Maybe more so than the fate of the human race, she felt the pressure of saving Marth's soul from Gharnef's clutches.

"So where's the Pegasus-riding Princess?" Naga asked, looking over at Merric. The Wind Mage wasn't sure if he liked the Divine Dragon's attitude; she clearly didn't think much of the human race despite liking them. She probably liked them like most humans liked a dog or a horse.

"Princess Shiida will follow us from the skies," he replied, grudgingly and mostly because Tiki was giving him questioning looks as well. "She said her Pegasus was itching to fly, and that very skill is the reason we've taken her with us."

"Nah." Naga had put her hands behind her head as she followed Merric out of the camp. At his baffled expression, she shrugged. "Human males are so thick. She's clearly hopelessly in love with the Lodestar." Merric had noticed. The entire CAMP had noticed. Some of the less polite members of the army had been betting on when she was finally going to get tired of waiting for Marth and just propose to him herself. "I wasn't going to separate them and deny her the chance of being the first person he sees when he returns," Naga explained. "It's a woman thing." She said it jokingly, but there was something to her voice that felt funny with the words. Was she being melancholic? Clearly, Merric had a long way to go as far as understanding a single thing that went on in Naga's head went.

They hadn't walked for long when a gust of wind and a flash of white told Merric that Princess Shiida had landed, along with the clopping of hooves that indicated she'd stopped her Pegasus. "There's a few Wyvern Riders in the northern skies," she said, pointing to the skies in question as the others caught up. "I think it's best to avoid them." Despite having a Divine Dragon as well as several Wind tomes at their disposal, Merric was inclined to agree. It was best to avoid any scuffles, if only for the sake of not drawing the attention of Prince Michalis.

"Too late," Naga said, suddenly serious. "We've got company as things are." Merric turned quickly enough that his head spun, looking in the direction Naga pointed in. A couple of brigands blocked their path. They didn't look to be military, let alone Medonian dragon knights- just highwaymen, most likely.

"'S our lucky day fellers," the biggest and buffest of them said. "We git not only a Pegasus and two girls, but also the prince of Altea!" He laughed out loud. "Today's the day ol' Bob becomes a prince! Git'em!"

"I have no time to play with you," Naga said. Much like how it had been when she had told the army about Marth's predicament, her tone was dead serious and her face showed very clearly that she would accept no form of protest or interruption. "Worms like you mean nothing in the grand scheme of things. You will leave us be or suffer my wrath."

Merric could only stare at the face of his long-time friend, currently locked in a strict, demanding, almost hostile expression as Naga raised one hand. "I do not offer second chances. _Move aside._"

Bob was less impressed by the Divine Dragon -well, the prince from his point of view, Merric guessed. "Big talk! C'mere princey princey!"

As he ran forward, charging the four of them with his large axe, Naga snatched that round, white orb from Tiki's hands and stepped back, clenching it on her fist while taking a wide stance that was at once aggressive and defensive. Merric had no idea what she was planning, as nothing seemed to happen and the hostility on her face made way for confusion. "Tiki, dear," she said, looking at the stone in her hand, "Are you quite sure you brought a functioning Dragon- ugh!" Bob's axe had collided with her midriff, sending her to the ground pretty harshly.

"Mommy!" Tiki screamed, around the same time that Merric exclaimed "Wind!" to conjure up a blade of concentrated air and send it flying towards Bob. He hit the brigand in roughly the same spot as where he had hit Naga, and the added power of the wind and Merric's affinity for it sent him tumbling backwards, though never fully losing his balance. Merric did see blood forming at his bare abdomen though. The wind had been sharp enough to cut the flesh.

Bob's two companions, both swift swordsmen, moved to attack him in revenge for wounding their leader. Princess Shiida had taken her lance from her saddle and wanted to perform a countercharge, but Tiki was faster. When Naga had fallen backwards, she had dropped the Dragonstone she'd taken from Tiki, and once the smaller dragon had recovered from the shock, she'd made a dive for it and gripped it tightly.

Merric would never grow used to the sight of Tiki's true form. The little girl was completely unrecognisable in the gargantuan, reptilian beast that stood between them and the men now. White-scaled and with large, bat-like wings that were currently folded in, she leant forward and, in what had to be a tantrum over the men hurting her mother, exhaled a plume of white-hot fire over them before leaning back and turning back to normal. Because of the haste in which she did so, her humanoid form hung in mid-air for a second before falling to the ground, where she landed far more softly than the laws of physics should have allowed.

The three brigands had been reduced to dust- dragon fire was a very unpleasant way to go. Merric turned to Naga. "What was that all about?" he asked, as Naga got to her feet.

"I don't know," she said. "I was trying to transform there."

"Everyone saw that!" Merric exclaimed. "Why did you think that was a good idea?!"

"Because it's how I fight," Naga replied, a tinge of annoyance in her voice. "In case you forgot, boy, I'm a Manakete."

"You're in the body of a human! Lord Marth's body doesn't work with Dragonstones!"

"Merric, stop that!" Princess Shiida's voice snapped him out of his anger, and he realized that he had grabbed Naga by the collar. Slightly dumbfounded, he let go of her, stepping back. "I don't think human bodies can do anything with Dragonstones," the princess said, hoping to calm him down, "so Marth was probably never in any danger… right?"

"Erk," Naga said, scratching the back of her head. "That's a good point you raise there… but that creates a problem in that I can't do any fighting. That complicates things… I'd really wanted to chomp down on that Dark Priest."

"You didn't bring a sword?" Merric asked, frowning.

"Anri's offspring lost Falchion," Naga said. "I didn't see it anywhere. Just the Shield of Seals, and even THAT isn't complete. I leave you to your own devices for a hundred short years, I swear."

"You could have brought a _different_ sword, you know," Merric said, exasperated. The way in which this dragon thought was so far beyond him that he didn't even want to bother trying to understand it. "We had a whole tent full of them."

"I brought a sword," Princess Shiida said. "She could use that." She'd already started detaching the belt from her own waist so she could hand it to Naga. "It's light enough that it shouldn't weigh you down," she explained, "And considering Marth taught me how to use it… I don't know, maybe his body remembers or…" she stopped, turning beet red in embarrassment over what she'd been saying. She had no idea how much water her words held though. Chances WERE that Naga could defend herself with the rapier, because of something Master Wendell had called muscle memory. Ellerean would probably have been able to tell the women more about it, but it wasn't Merric's field- and how it worked wasn't even important right now, anyway. Just that it did.

"Are you sure about this, Your Highness?" the mage asked. "This compromises your own fighting ability…"

"It'll be fine," she insisted as she watched Naga fasten the belt around her- she seemed to know her way around it, consistent with the tales of her wielding the Falchion in her heyday. "I've always been better with a lance, anyway."

Merric sighed, taking the staff to hand that he had decided to bring. It'd been a difficult decision to make, with his inexperience and the fact that he had to travel lightly, but right now he was grateful that he'd brought it. Heavens knew how many more injuries Naga was going to take at this rate, and it would do Marth no good to return to a wrecked body. Raising the staff towards his friend's body, he poured his magic into it, forcing the flesh to grow back together and close the wound.

"Let's get going," he said. "It's possible that the Wyvern Riders Princess Shiida spoke of heard all the noise. Best to not stay in place any longer."


	5. Marth interlude

_**Author's Notes:** My deepest apologies for the delay. Between college, my parents' anniversary and dad's 50th birthday, and moving the RP board I run over to another forum, I've had a crazy start of October. For this reason I can't bring you 2,500 words with Naga's company. Good thing I was going to switch over to Marth anyway, isn't it?_

_On that note, I should warn you all that this will likely be the last Meddling Divine Dragon update until early December. I'm putting it on pause throughout the month of November so I can focus entirely on NaNoWriMo. Again, I apologize for all the delays._

* * *

He just lay still for a good long time, staring up at the overcast heavens. There was a big hole in his memory, as he had no idea how he had gotten here from the breakfast table. In fact, he didn't recall what had happened after his chest had started hurting. All he knew was that when he had opened his eyes, he had been lying here on his back. His clothing had changed, too. While he was certain that he'd sat at the breakfast table in travel gear and armour, right now he was dressed in nothing else than a large, thick mantle that covered him shoulder to ankle. He recognized it- it was his father's winter mantle, explaining why it barely fit him. He felt heavy, and since he believed moving would be a trial, he had not bothered trying. He idly noted that in fact, he hadn't even blinked.

For the umpteenth time, he recounted the events of the day to himself. He had woken. He had untangled Merric. He'd gone to find Shiida, who had thrown things at his head, and they'd gone off for breakfast together. But what exactly had happened at the breakfast table was a big blur, a blur ending with pain. Pain… it was a bit of a surreal concept to him right now. Something that he couldn't imagine feeling anymore. Wherever he was, the place was playing with his senses. His memory was hazy, his sight cloudy, there was no sound to judge his hearing by, and he barely felt the grass he was lying on.

He sat up. He didn't know why, it just felt better. The motion took him more mental effort than physical, as though he'd only had trouble motivating himself to sit up rather than to physically do it. For the first time since somehow arriving here, he took the time to look around. Not that it told him much. All he saw around him for miles in any direction was grass and the overcast sky. Hadn't they camped near a forest? The more he thought on the matter, the more certain he grew that he had been taken away from camp by magic. How else could he have left the forests of Medon so far behind him so quickly? Well, he wondered that, but he had no idea how long he had been unconscious for. For all he knew he could have been here for a whole day. Something told him that was not the case though…

When had he gotten to his feet? He didn't remember, but the fact was that he now stood straight, still looking around. Uncertain, he took a few hesitant steps forward, without any real direction. Where was he? The silence around him was starting to get unsettling. He hadn't really noticed it before, but after spending… for how long had he been conscious? He frowned. "Marth." This was seriously starting to worry him. Why could he only answer half his own questions, if that?

"Marth." He turned around to the voice, only to stumble backwards in utter shock.

"F-Father?!" In his surprise, he'd reeled and lost his balance. Now, he scuttled away from the form of his fully armoured father, who had been murdered in front of his eyes two years ago. Ever since witnessing his father's fall, Marth had been haunted by nightmares and the slightest thing could set off a flashback- talk of Falchion, talk of Gharnef, seeing Gharnef cast Imhullu towards him. Still, even before that, King Cornelius had always unsettled his own son. Their father-son relationship was quite complicated and often unpleasant, which was part of the reason Marth was not happy to see him.

It wasn't until the prince had created a decent amount of distance between himself and his father that he stopped to realise that things didn't add up. King Cornelius was dead. Mutilated and dead, even. And yet his father was standing before him. No visible scars to be seen, no traces of the evil magic that had… Marth grabbed his head. No. Now was not the time to see that again. He couldn't afford to be immobilized when his father was right there to-

"Calm down." He didn't feel the hand on his cheek, but his face was turned upwards so he would look his father in the eye. He braced for impact, but the fallen king did not hurt him. In fact, he let go. "Do you know where you are?"

Marth hesitated. "No. I've been trying to find out, but I keep losing my train of thought or getting distracted. I don't know where I am, how I got here, or how long I've been here for."

"That doesn't surprise me. Come with me for a moment." The king turned around, gesturing that his son had to follow. "I'll try to explain things. You're not in Akaneia anymore, at least not in the strictest sense of the word."

"What are you…"

"Do you feel your heart pounding? Your breath hitching? Your body shivering with effort to stand?"

"No," Marth said, confused. He didn't feel anything. His heart, breath, and body were all acting normally, it was his mind that was hazy…

"That is because you don't have a body anymore." After the king spoke those words, Marth stopped. "Your body is still in the camp, but you've been separated from it."

For a few seconds, Marth was too shocked to speak. "Is…" he finally managed to utter, "Is that even… possible?"

"The reason your heart isn't pounding is because you don't have one. The reason your breath isn't hitching is that you're not breathing. Your body isn't shivering because you're not using it to stand." King Cornelius had stopped as well, and did not turn around. "You've been reduced to just your soul. It's a miracle you're as lucid and mobile as you seem to be."

"Then where are we right now?" Marth decided to no longer question his father's presence or the words he spoke. Somewhere, deep down, he knew they were true- it was as if he had made this reasoning, himself, and only needed to be reminded of it.

The king shook his head. "It's hard to define. A higher plane of being, perhaps, or maybe you've dived into your own mind as a way to protect yourself." He finally turned to look at Marth, with something resembling… pride? "You have to be mentally a lot more resilient than you seem, otherwise you wouldn't have been moving around and talking like this. I don't put it past you."

"What am I protecting myself from?" Marth asked. By now, he was certain that his father was a figment of his imagination, or maybe his subconscious made real by the nature of the place where he was. That would certainly explain the lack of beating. He had no indication of when he would disappear, so it was best to get all the information out of himself that he could as quickly as he could.

"Magic," the king answered. "Demons. The Dark Priest and his antics…"

Yes, it was fairly obvious that Gharnef had to be responsible. It would make sense if Marth had instinctively done something to block the priest out, especially if he really was mentally more resilient than physically. "I see. I have one more question. How do I get out of here and back to my body?"

The king waited a good, long moment before finally answering. "That… is impossible. There's something keeping you from leaving this place and regaining control of your body. And even if that hadn't been in place, you're miles away from it. You would wither long before ever reaching it."

Marth had never heard the term 'wither' before, but if he'd had a body it would have sent a chill down his spine. "But won't I 'wither' regardless, if I stay in here for long enough?"

"You will," King Cornelius replied without hesitation. "It's the Dark Priest's plan… kill the body by cutting it off from a soul that can force it to move and nourish itself, and then kill the soul by locking it out of a body that can protect it from withering or from magic…"

Marth had to hand it to Gharnef- the plan seemed foolproof. Still, he looked around himself once more. If his father had materialised as a result of him being trapped inside his own mind, then surely he had to be able to manipulate other aspects of the plain…


End file.
